Watch Dogs
by SEAL98
Summary: When Voight tabbed Navy SEAL Steve McGarrett to take over for Al, he knew he was getting a capable operator and fearless leader. But what he and the rest of Intelligence did not expect to find was a dark connection to the criminal underworld of Chicago. When the truth is brought to light, they find a whole new side of Chicago and a conspiracy that threatens to tear the city apart.


The Monday morning after the funeral for Alvin was somber. No one truly wanted to be in the office, not even Voight, despite his recent reinstatement. Despite justice, or the closest thing to it anyways, being achieved, an aroma of depression surrounded Intelligence. Voight, knowing what lay ahead of them that day, knew that it would not be an easy one. He sat down at his desk, staring at file that had been left open when he had snuck into the office the day before. A picture stared back at him, a man with cold blue eyes, a chiseled jaw, and a facial expression that reflected years of tough fighting. That man was Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett.

Olinksy's replacement.

Voight sighed as he flipped through the file. An exemplary record as a SEAL. A leader of a different caliber. A man with years of combat experience and a penchant for justice.

But he was still the replacement for his best friend and one of the most loved members of intelligence.

Voight leaned back in his chair, staring out at the members of his unit as they began to comb through evidence and write reports. None wore smiles. All bore the scars of what had been a brutal week. He knew he needed to tell them before McGarrett arrived. He just had no idea how to break the news. Despite knowing the reality of the situation, Voight couldn't escape the feeling that officially bringing in Olinsky's replacement would solidify the knowledge that he was gone. It was a foreboding reality that Voight simply did not yet want to face. But despite the pain in his heart, he knew what he had to do.

Voight dropped his head, shaking it as a single tear slipped out of his eye. _"Olinksy is gone…it's time to move on."_

* * *

Steve McGarrett arrived in Chicago with no fanfare. He slipped out of the plane at the airport, gathered two military issue duffle bags along with his backpack, and walked out to the edge of the terminal. As he walked, his eye, hidden behind a pair of aviators, combed the populace, searching the crowd for threats. It was an instinct he couldn't turn off. A thought process that had saved him time and time again was now engrained into his subconscious.

He stepped out of the terminal and onto a sidewalk, where numerous cars were driving around, picking up and dropping people off in a loop that was less control and more chaos. A young blonde woman in a paramedic uniform caught sight of him and waved, walking towards him with a brisk pace. She reached him and shook his hand, her bubbly personality somewhat catching him off guard. "Commander McGarrett?"

Steve nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Nice to meet you."

She smiled. "Good to meet you too. I'm Sylvie."

He looked around, seeing if there were anyone else present who would recognize Sylvie or himself. Noticing his darting glances, Sylvie remarked, "Voight called me and asked me to give you a ride to your place…he hasn't told intelligence yet."

Steve nodded, not completely unsurprised by that. "It's alright. I understand. Been there myself. You think you can give me a ride to my place first? I need to dump some of this gear."

She nodded. "Sure thing. The Ambo is parked a couple rows down. Let's go."

Sylvie offered to help with the bags, but McGarrett politely declined. He followed Sylvie to the ambulance, tossed his gear in the middle seat, and slipped off his sunglasses as he settled in for the ride, plugging in the address for his house on the South Shore.

The ride was not very long, but it was punctuated by little conversation, making it seem longer to Sylvie. While she wanted to talk to the new guy, he made it abundantly clear through several cues that he wasn't very interested in talking. He was tall and handsome, his shorter hair a dark brown and his thick stubble matching. Deep blue eyes and a chiseled jaw line completed the package and Sylvie had to admit, he was pretty attractive. Actually, pretty attractive was an understatement. He was gorgeous.

They pulled up at a small Chicago bungalow, a brick structure with white shutters and a small porch. Steve said, "Hey, give me one sec to drop this off and I'll be back, okay?"

Sylvie nodded. "Sounds good. No rush."

Steve slipped inside, unlocking the house and entering the familiar home with a deep breath. Sure enough, it was still clean, still upkept, still neat. Just like he had left it. He moved through the living room towards the bedroom that was offset from the kitchen. He dropped his bags on the floor and then headed into the second bedroom. The second bedroom served as his office, study, and the closet as his armory. He opened the closet door, grabbed his HK 416, P226, slid them into cases, and then walked back out, tossing them in a storage compartment under the ambulance before opening the door and sitting back down.

Sylvie remarked, "Well that was quick."

Steve nodded. "Pack light and move fast. That's what we used to say back in the teams."

Curious and sensing an opening, she asked, "I heard you're former military. What branch?"

A guarded McGarrett carefully replied, "Navy."

"You see any combat?"

McGarrett shrugged. "A little bit here and there, yeah."

Sylvie remarked, "You must be quite the sailor for Voight to have brought you on with no experience."

McGarrett gave her a tight smile and replied, "I guess I just interview really well."

* * *

Voight stepped out of his office, silently opening and closing the door. He sighed and stared out, the rest of the unit barely even giving him a second glance they were so tied into their work. Or rather, because they were trying to make themselves busy and not have to think, not have to feel, not have to process what had gone down since they had last sat down in that space and done paperwork.

He caught sight of Kim, who had tear stains on her cheeks. Voight mentally slapped himself, realizing that she had been assigned much of the processing and closing casework for Al. _"How could I have been that stupid…that should have been mine. I should have done that. Dammit Hank!"_

He took a stance at the head of the desks and coughed uncomfortably. Everyone shifted their gazes up, sat back in their chairs, and waited for their leader to speak. Voight rung the back of his neck, still incredibly uncomfortable, and said, "Look…I know that last week was a tough week. We need to heal, and we need to mourn."

Voight paused for a moment, exhaled, and then continued. "But…we can't stop dead in our tracks. We can't leave Al's spot empty. He'd want us to move forward and be at full strength. You all know that."

Ruzek looked at the other members of the unit, sensed that they all were thinking along the same lines as him, and asked, "Voight, where are you going with this?"

Voight stared him down and replied, "I'm bringing in a new guy. Starting today."

The room was quiet. Several facial expressions wore open scorn, others sadness, but all were shocked and at least a little angry. Kim replied, "He…we just put him in the ground, Hank!"

Voight replied sharply, "I am well aware of that, Burgess."

Ruzek snapped, "Then why are you trying to replace him?"

Voight pointed at every member of intelligence and replied, "You, you, you, you, all of you, know that this unit lost a cornerstone in Al! Antonio and Ruzek have clearly shown that they are not ready for the number two slot. Now I am NOT going to sit here and allow a tragedy to undermine the effectiveness of this unit! This city is OUR responsibility and you don't know a damn thing if you think I will allow us to be weakened!"

Voight, whose raised voice had reached a crescendo by the end of his rant, stopped talking, his breathing heavy. The rest of intelligence stared back at him, still angry, still hurt, but some seeming to at least get the picture. Hank knew that just like him, the thought of bringing in someone new solidified in their minds that Al was gone. He lowered his head and said, "Al was my best friend…this hurts me more than any of you can imagine."

His voice began to crack. "But…if I know one thing, it's that Al wouldn't want us to sit here and use our love for him as an excuse to hold the torch for a dead man. I won't disrespect his memory by allowing this unit to run off the rails because of his death. Do you all understand?"

Everyone was silent, but there were a few head nods. Voight nodded. "Alright then."

At that moment, his phone rang. Voight turned, picked it up, nodded at a few statements, and ended the call. "Alright. We gotta go."

* * *

The ambulance bumped along the route to the 21st Precinct. Sylvie looked over at Steve, who was staring out of the window, and asked, "Are you nervous?"

He turned to look at her and asked, "Should I be?"

She shrugged and replied, "Well…it's just that Voight is kind of intense. They all are. It comes with the job, I guess. And considering what you're walking into…"

Steve nodded. "With them just having lost someone?"

She nodded and said, "It's just a tough situation to walk into."

Steve looked back out the window and softly replied, "This isn't the first time I've walked into something like this, Sylvie. Believe me, I've learned to not be nervous in times like this."

She cinched her eyebrows and asked, "Okay…what is it that you did, exactly?"

Steve looked at her and replied, "I was a good sailor."

Sylvie, now somewhat quarrelsome after being frustrated by the lack of information, replied, "People work their entire careers for a position in intelligence. They don't just walk into the police department and get handed a slot! You have to be a weapons expert, able to hold your own undercover, trained to an elite level…that doesn't just happen for any old sailor!"

Steve listened to her as her voice was progressively raised and grinned. She turned and caught sight of him grinning and asked in an exasperated tone, "What?!"

Steve shrugged, chuckled, and replied, "I'll be honest, I wasn't exactly expecting you to raise your voice. It was kind of funny, actually."

Sylvie rolled her eyes and bit off, "Well, I'm glad you found some entertainment."

Steve sighed and replied, "Okay, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

Sylvie was quiet for a moment before replying, "It's alright. I'm sorry, I'm just curious by nature and I get frustrated when I don't get answers. I'm working on it."

McGarrett nodded. "I get it. Really, I do. Look, don't take it personally. It's just not in my nature to talk about my job. I spent years of my life concealing what I do. That isn't a habit that I can just turn off. It takes time."

Sylvie asked, "Well…were you Navy Intelligence? That would make sense, all things considered."

Steve shook his head. "No. We worked with them a lot, though. They're a good crew. Fantastic at their jobs."

Sylvie nodded, appreciative of the tidbit of information. "Well…if you worked with intelligence but weren't intelligence yourself…"

Steve sighed and said, "You're really not gonna let this go, are you?"

Sylvie grinned slightly and replied, "What do you think?"

At that moment, multiple gunshots rang out, pelting the side of the ambulance. Sylvie screamed and ducked while Steve yanked out his P226 as the shattered glass fell around his head. Sylvie swerved as a few more rounds slammed into the side of the vehicle. Steve yelled at Sylvie, "Get out of the vehicle! NOW!"

Sylvie yanked the door open and spilled onto the ground, yelling, "Ambulance 61 to main, shots fired! We need help NOW!"

McGarrett slipped out of the driver's side and slipped around back, returning fire. The gunshots were coming from a small house across the street. The brick and dark wood-built single-story structure had three windows staring out into the street, with all having the glass knocked out. McGarrett caught sight of an assault rifle barrel in time to yank himself back as multiple rounds slammed into the tail of the ambulance. McGarrett slid back to check Sylvie when he caught sight of two children on the sidewalk near where the shooting had started. One was bent over, rocking back and forth while screaming. The other was sprawled out on the ground, face down, limbs spread out and not moving. McGarrett groaned and yelled at Sylvie, "Hey, you got a fire extinguisher on the truck?"

She nodded and grabbed one out of the drivers' side door. McGarrett took it from her and slid to the back edge of the vehicle. He took a hold of the extinguisher with one hand and waited for a break in fire. As soon as one materialized, the shooter needing to reload, McGarrett yanked his arm around the edge and took aim. The shot hit the extinguisher perfectly, sending a cloud of chemicals spewing out in front of the window.

Steve rushed out, sprinting for the front of the structure. The momentary distraction bought him cover and in seconds, he had reached the porch and kicked the door down. He rushed into the living room, where two surprised gang members in black and orange looked up him, shocked looks on their faces. Both held AK-47's in their hands with hundreds of rounds of ammunition scattered around the living room. He yelled, "POLICE! DROP THE WEAPONS! LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!"

They didn't move a muscle, the weapons still frozen in their hands. Steve stared back at them, his weapon ready, his finger on the trigger, waiting for the move that he knew was coming. He recognized the look in their eyes. The cornered animal look. It was only a matter of time before they made their play. Men like that didn't want to be captured.

Sure enough, both attempted to whip their rifles around and take out McGarrett.

He was ready.

Four gunshots, two to each head. Both shooters dropped, dead before they hit the floor. McGarrett rushed through the rest of the house, clearing each of the rooms, before rushing back out to the street and to the little boy sprawled out on the ground. He heard sirens in the distance and knew that police were close. Other ambulances would not be far behind.

But as he rolled the little boy over and saw two gunshot wounds to the chest, he knew that they didn't have that long. He yelled, "Sylvie! Get over here! This kid is bleeding out!"

McGarrett checked the kid. Two gunshots, both to the chest. Blood spilled out of his mouth. He could barely breath, his chest lightly heaving as he gasped for breath. His eyes were wide but unfocused, staring off into the distance. A closer check to the chest as McGarrett put pressure on one of the wounds, which was bleeding profusely, revealed the worst.

As Sylvie rushed over, he yelled, "Hey, tension pneumothorax! We need to decompress the chest STAT!"

Sylvie dropped her bag and Steve immediately dove into it, grabbing the air needles and sliding to his right side as Sylvie prepared to intubate. He slid the needle in and heard the hissing noise as air escaped. He nodded at Sylvie, who began to intubate.

By this point, police had arrived, and Steve caught sight of another ambulance pulling up. He waved them down as he put pressure on the wounds and continued to watch the kid. The other two paramedics rushed over and took over care before sliding the young boy onto a stretcher, rushing him into the back of the new ambulance, and taking him to med.

Steve stared down at the blood on his hands and shook his head. _"It's not supposed to be like this back home."_

Sylvie walked over and took a seat next to him. "Hey, are you okay?"

McGarrett nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She knelt down in front of him and took stock of the new officer. "You sure?"

He looked back at her and replied, "Sylvie, that isn't the first time that I've taken care of someone that just took fire."

She shook her head. "I wasn't talking about that."

He shrugged. "I've taken down more than my fair share of shooters."

She replied, "Well…I'm assuming you weren't a medic. You sure looked like one though."

"We trained as battlefield medics. You lead guys, you train extra, learn more. That's the way it is."

"I'm gonna get to the bottom of this, you know."

Sylvie stepped back and leaned against the ambulance, rocking back and forth and taking deep breaths as the adrenaline began to leave her. He walked over and took a seat next to her. "What about you? You good?"

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I will be. I just…I'm not used to that."

McGarrett nodded. "I get that. It takes time."

She shook her head. "Hopefully I'll never get used to something like that."

Steve distantly replied, "Yeah…"

* * *

A few minutes later, Intelligence arrived on the scene. After a few minutes of combing through the site, it became pretty clear that the two shooters, who had stashed pharmaceuticals all over their house, saw a slow-moving ambulance and decided to try and snag more.

Voight pulled Hailey to interview Sylvie and Steve, who were still sitting near the ambulance. Voight walked up to Sylvie first and asked, "Are you alright?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Yeah…yeah, I'm alright. Still a little shaky, but I'll be fine."

Voight nodded. "Take the rest of the shift off, if you can. I'll talk to Boden."

She smiled tightly in response. "Thanks, Sergeant."

"Sylvie…I'm sorry. You wouldn't have been here if-"

She shook her head and interrupted him. "Really, it's okay. I promise. I'll be fine. I just need to clear my head."

Voight nodded and replied, "Slide over there and talk to Kim. She'll ask you a few questions and then we'll get you back to 51."

She nodded and stood up, giving everyone a soft smile before heading over to Burgess, sensing that Voight wanted time alone with McGarrett. He watched her walk off before turning back to Steve. "Commander McGarrett?"

Steve nodded and stood up. "Yes, sir."

Voight held out his hand. "Sergeant Voight. Good to finally meet you. Lindsay had a lot of high praise for you."

McGarrett pursed his lips, grimaced, and replied, "Yeah, well…"

Hank shook his head and replied, "I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't mean to remind-"

"It's fine, Sergeant. I appreciate Agent Lindsay's kind words. We got to go through the fire together."

Voight nodded sympathetically. "So I heard…"

* * *

Hailey drifted off, heading back to the rest of the Intelligence Unit, who all had come together and were watching the conversation between Voight and the shooter who had ridden with Sylvie. Kevin asked, "Did that guy really take down those Black Viceroys?"

Ruzek remarked, "Tossing out the extinguisher and using it as cover…I'll give the guy credit, he sure knows what he's doing."

Kim nodded and replied, "I talked with Sylvie. She said that he took those guys down and still got back to administer primary care before she got out from behind the ambo. Said that he knew battlefield trauma. Treated it like it was second nature, barely even broke a sweat."

Hailey stared back at him and quietly asked, "Who is this guy…"

* * *

A few minutes later, Voight gestured for Steve to follow him. The rest of Intelligence, still clumped together, waited anxiously for their boss, who clearly had taken a special interest in the man. On some level, they all suspected why. The ride along with Sylvie, who said she had picked him up at the airport, and the extensive training and ability under fire was certainly eyebrow raising.

Voight walked up and was quiet for a moment. "Alright…I want to introduce all of you to Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. He'll be joining the team as of his processing into the system when we get back."

All stared at him, none with welcoming or open arms. McGarrett didn't say anything, didn't smile, didn't frown. He did nothing. He simply stared ahead, nodded, and then waited for Voight or one of the others to speak. Being the new guy, he knew when it was smart to keep his mouth shut.

After a few moments of silence, Voight asked, "Everything cleared up on the scene?"

Antonio nodded. "Yeah, Voight. Seemed fairly straight forward. We didn't come across anything that would make us think it's anything different than our first theory. Vice is about to come through and bag up the prescription drugs."

Voight nodded. "You find anything tying any other suspects to this?"

Jay shook his head. "No, but we did find a bunch more Black Viceroy paraphernalia in the back. These two were definitely up there, judging by the cash lying around the house. They were running some type of ring and Black Viceroy's don't let street level bangers run rings and dictate hits. Whoever these guys were, they were somebody. I'm gonna feel out a couple of CI's and see if I can turn up anything."

Voight nodded and replied, "Alright then. Let's get back to precinct and sort this mess out."

Intelligence broke up pretty quickly as they headed for their cars. Voight said, "Steve, you can hop in with me."

He nodded. "Yes, sir. Just let me grab my gear."

* * *

The ride back was quiet before Voight broke the silence. "We're a family around here, Commander. Don't take any of this personally. They don't know you from Adam and you're taking the spot of a man that many considered to be a father figure. They'll warm up to you. It's just gonna take time."

Steve nodded. "I'm not taking it personally, Sir. I get it. I've been there. I've been in this role before and I've been on the other side where they are. I know what I'm in for."

Voight looked over at his companion. "You really have seen a lot, haven't you?"

McGarrett shrugged. "Eleven years in the Teams, sir. I've seen just about everything."

* * *

The rest of intelligence arrived back at the precinct and were up in their quarters long before Voight and McGarrett would finish initial processing. They quickly hunkered down at their desks and began to research the sailor. After a few quick back doors utilized by Jay and a little luck on the side of Hailey, his records were found.

Hailey's mouth dropped open for a moment before she began reading off his service record aloud, or rather, what wasn't classified. "Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett…SEAL Team Ten, six deployments. Navy Special Warfare Development Group, seven deployments. 2 Silver Stars, 2 Bronze Star Medals, both with Valor, Purple Heart with 4 gold award stars (5 awards), Joint Service Commendation Medal, Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal, with 4 gold award stars (5 awards), Joint Service Achievement Medal with 2 bronze oak leaf cluster (3 awards), Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal, Combat Action Ribbon, with 5 gold award stars (6 awards), Navy Sea Service Deployment Ribbon, with 8 service stars (9 awards), Fleet Marine Force Ribbon, National Defense Service Medal, Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal, with 6 service stars (7 awards), Afghanistan Campaign Medal, with 4 service stars (5 awards) Iraq Campaign Medal, with 1 service star (2 awards), Global War on Terrorism Expeditionary Medal, Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, Humanitarian Service Medal, and a George Cross."

Jay shook his head in amazement as he stared down at the file in front of him. "Numerous unit citations and awards while he was leading. A George Cross…this is incredible. There are multiple spec warfare units that couldn't reach this level of commendation combined…and this is one guy!"

Atwater scrolled further through the file. "Guys…there's black ops stuff in here. Like…this man is HIGHLY classified. Most of this record is redacted."

Ruzek leaned back and shook his head in wonder. "Voight went out and got an ex-SEAL to help run this unit. This is…just…wow."

Jay looked around at them and said, "Guys…someone with this level of achievement should be in line for an early look at admiral in a few years, rather than getting out. This is…different."

Hailey asked, "What do you mean?"

Jay shrugged and replied, "I don't know that it means anything. Maybe he just got tired of it all. But…it's weird that he's leaving the Navy and coming here. He was raised in Hawaii, stationed out there or at Coronado during his career. There's no obvious tie to the city…I don't know. Something just feels off about all of this."

* * *

Sylvie arrived back at Firehouse 51 still shaken but progressively gaining back her normal self. She was greeted by hugs and concerned looks, but all were quickly put to bed by her now happy demeanor. Back in the place she called home with the people she loved, she found herself putting the day's events more or less behind her. She was given the opportunity to relax on the couch as paramedic from Firehouse 43 was brought in to finish out her shift. Despite Boden insisting she take the rest of the shift off, she wanted to stay around her people. She knew that she would feel more comfortable when surrounded by comfort and safety.

She was slowly drifting off when she was joined on the couch by her fellow paramedic Serena Van Der Woodsen, who had become her partner a few months before when Gabby had left Chicago for Puerto Rico. Serena and Sylvie had gotten very close in a short period of time and Serena, now that the dust had settled, wanted to check in on a deeper level with her best friend.

She gently squeezed Sylvie's arm and asked, "Hey, are you really okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I am…I'm feeling better the further I get away from it."

Serena pursed her lips and nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I bet."

Sylvie shook as she relived the shooting and replied, "You know…I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been for Steve."

Serena racked her memory for a moment before asking, "The guy Sergeant Voight asked you to pick up from the airport?"

Sylvie nodded. "Yeah, that's the one. Ex-military. Never could get him to say what he did…but whatever it was, he knew what he was doing. I've never seen someone act that fast in a firefight. Serena…he saved that kids life. Both by ending the shootout and by being so quick to begin care."

Serena nodded and gave her friend a hug. "Well, I'm thankful he was there. We were worried sick when we heard the call on the radio. We tried to get over there, but the cops had the area blocked off. They didn't let us in until after the police had driven you to the precinct and then back here."

Sylvie smiled and said, "Really, it's okay. But when we get off today, any chance we could hang out? I really don't feel like sleeping alone at my apartment tonight."

Serena nodded and smiled. "Of course, we can. You can stay with me as long as you want."

Sylvie smiled and squeezed her partner again. "Thanks, S. You have no idea how much it means to me. I'll make it up to you."

Serena rolled her eyes and said, "Don't be ridiculous, Sylvie. You know my place is open to you whenever you need it."

"Are you sure?"

Serena nodded. "Of course, I'm sure. It isn't any inconvenience at all."

Sylvie leaned back in the couch as she and Serena began to talk, stealthily sliding out her phone as Serena began to talk about something she had seen in a store downtown a couple days earlier. She found Antonio's number and typed out a quick text. _"Hey, I need a favor…"_

* * *

A few minutes later, Steve walked into Intelligence and was escorted by Voight to his new desk. He began setting a few of his things down and while doing so caught sight of a photo at the corner of the desk. He picked it up and looked it over. It was everyone in Intelligence at an old bar, all clearly filled with joy. A sign that read "Happy Birthday Al" was strung up on the rafters and everyone was surrounding an older man with graying hair and a handlebar mustache. Piecing two and two together, Alex grimaced in sadness as he stared at the picture. He looked up from it to catch everyone's eyes on him. Beneath some of the anger, vitriol, and what he gauged as a mix of respect and wonder, was a deep sadness. He knew what they were feeling.

And he knew it was time to speak.

"I, uh…I'm not gonna lie to you all and say that I understand what you're going through. I've been in the same position as you all more times than I care to remember, but I have never experienced exactly what you're going through. Each person is different. Each connection is unique. Being a SEAL…well, we know what we're signing up for. From talking with Agent Lindsay…losing someone as a police officer hits differently. It's a lot easier to prepare to lose someone when you're behind enemy lines than when you're patrolling your own streets…"

He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry that you lost Al. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I'm sorry that you all had to meet me and begin working with me under these circumstances."

Steve began to get choked up, but he pushed it down and said in a tight voice. "I don't expect you to warm up to me. I know that I wouldn't. I know that I didn't when I was in your shoes…but you all can expect something from me. I promise you…I want my life to count. That's not changing now that I am processing out of the service and into working with you. I take this responsibility just as highly as I did when I was leading guys in the Teams. I promise you…that I will serve in a way that would make Al proud. I just want you to know that."

Steve sat back down, slid the picture of Al to the center of his desk, and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. He was shaken when he felt a hand grip his shoulder and looked up to see Ruzek, followed by Hailey, Kim, Atwater, Jay, and Antonio. He offered his hand to Steve.

"Hey, man…welcome to the team."


End file.
